Banshee (In Training)

• Levi Galvin, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

Three soft knocks on the wooden door and a man with a beer gut and balding head opened. Before him was a young woman, perhaps seventeen – he couldn’t tell, with black hair pulled into a ponytail and odd eyes which nervously flitted. ‘Erm… My name is Chiara and I’d like to send my condolences for your loss.’ The man’s expression was blank, what was this crazed girl on about? Chiara tucked her hands into the coat’s pockets and nervously fidgeted her feet.
‘Excuse me?’ The man leaned against the door frame and his grotty pit stains made Chiara want to heave.
‘Yes, I, uh, I’m here to, you know…’ The man looked at her expectantly, he did not know; he wanted an explanation. She just didn’t know how to break the bad news.
‘I would’ve been recognised more easily in my truer form, I suppose. But you know how society is advancing rather quickly these days: smart phones, airplanes, wireless stuff.’ She was rambling, and gods she couldn’t stop. This was what had happened with her last client too.
She pulled out an iridescent business card and tentatively passed it over. He inspected it closely and raised his eyebrows at the simple date stamped on. Chiara looked up at the man, she had work to do! Why couldn’t she do the job as well as her friends? It was then that he noticed how strange her eyes really were; one green and one blue yet they held no real colour. They were dull. Lifeless.
The man gulped and took a step back, ‘Who are you?’ Chiara nervously checked the time on her watch.
‘I already told you. My name is Chi-‘
‘-Yes, I know that. But what are you?’ Sweat started to bead on her hairline.
‘A banshee. Sir.’ She managed. The man’s face paled; banshees were the predictors of death. His hand shook as he looked at the date in his hand.
‘So, um,’ Chiara willed herself to speak, ‘I’m here to announce that someone in this household will die.’ The man’s heartbeat thumped, even without her keen senses she could tell he was on the verge of a heart attack.
‘But I live here alone!’ Chiara’s throat bobbed, banshees only knew the date and location – the specifics were up to Death himself.
‘Again, I would like to send my condolences,’ she slowly backed away as the man grew more anxious by the second.
‘But the date is printed for today!’ His voice shrilled. She checked her watch once again.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but, erm, my ride is waiting so I’d best be going now and leave you be.’ She sheepishly smiled and hurried away from the house.
One client down for the day, 63 more.